Yoü and I
by Florida Mayers
Summary: Melanie Sloane Salinas wanted to survive. She wanted a better life for herself, to be the person she was denied from being for so long. For most of her life, Melanie had to keep her focus on other people, but for the first time in what felt like forever, she was getting the chance to focus on herself. She wasn't about to screw that up. She couldn't afford to do that.
1. Chapter 1

_I am a New York woman born to rock you down_  
 _So want my lipstick all over your face_  
 _(Something), something, something about just knowing when it's right_  
 _So put your dreams up for Nebraska_  
 _For Nebraska, Nebraska, I love you_

-Yoü and I; **by Lady Gaga**

* * *

"I'm not servicing you in this establishment."

That was a statement that was fairly common to Melanie's ears. She'd heard it hundreds, if not _thousands_ , of times. It was a statement she'd grown used to, but it still angered her just the same.

"And I _told_ you: I don't care," Melanie responded, her tone clipped. The pharmacy manager was glaring at her with his beady, little eyes. From the second Melanie stepped _foot_ into his store, he'd been hassling her. Any other time, she would've been frightened at the thought of entering a white establishment, but when her mother got sick and was in desperate need of medication, things changed.

"Do you want me to call the police on you?" he barked, crossing his arms over his chest. Melanie knew the tactic he was using — he'd cross his arms and puff his chest out, as if trying to intimidate her. It didn't work. That technique had been used so many times it was pretty much useless.

"Go ahead," she snapped back. "I'm still getting this medicine."

The murmurs of other customers filled the store, becoming an unwanted background noise. For Melanie, it made her skin crawl, but she ignored it. She didn't have time to deal with the words of other people. Her main priority was her mother. Her mother's health _had_ to improve.

The look on the manager's face changed in an instant. His face turned beat red and his eyes widened. Throwing his arms down, he opened his mouth to say something before being interrupted. This time, not by Melanie.

"I'll pay for it." The voice came from a young man, maybe around Melanie's age. It was a bit surprising, and very much uncalled for. No one ever went out of their way to help Melanie when it came to stubborn — and rather racist — store managers. Anyone else would've gladly looked away. Turning her head slightly, Melanie saw a decently dressed, teenage boy probably a year or two older than herself. His dark hair was slicked back, but there was a bit of defiance in his blue eyes. It was that defiance that really baffled Melanie. "How much for it?" he asked, looking at the manager; his expression was unblinking.

The manager stumbled over his words for a moment before giving out a price. Pulling a couple bucks out of his pocket, the young man threw it on the counter before looking at Melanie. There was a long pause between the two, seeming to add to the tension in the pharmacy.

Without another word, Melanie grabbed the medication and walked out of the store.*

 **...**

"How're you feeling today, Ma?" Melanie asked. When she made it back to her apartment, that was when the relief set in. She wasn't in the public anymore, she wasn't dealing with people staring at her or whispering about her. In her apartment, Melanie could feel comfortable and more at ease. She could do what she did best once she was at home — take care of her sick mother. On top of watching her little brother, too.

Joni Salinas was laying in her bed, frail and pitiful. Her skin was yellowish in color, sunken in and withered.* Her hair had thinned out significantly, with sores appearing in various spots. Melanie could barely stand the way her mother looked, but she had to do her best to be the caretaker. Her half-brother, Oliver, was in no way capable of taking care of their mother. He was only three.

"Mel?" Joni rasped. Her eyes struggled to open, her breathing coming out in horrendous wheezes. "Where are you?"

"I'm right here, Ma." Carefully sitting on the edge of her mother's bed, Melanie gently placed her hand on top of her mother's. "I got your medicine. It's the painkillers."

Letting out a slight groan, Joni's fingers weakly clenched into fists. "Painkillers?" she grumbled.

"That's right."

"When did you go?"

"About an hour ago," Melanie responded, "after I put Oliver down for a nap."

Turning her head slightly, Joni blearily looked at her eldest daughter. She'd given birth to Melanie when she married her first husband. The couple had been very much in love, but after Melanie's father died, things started to change. Joni became a bit too reckless, going out with countless guys and earning quite the reputation. People in their old neighborhood looked at the Salinas family in disdain. By the time Melanie was thirteen, her mother was pregnant again. By the time Oliver was a year old, Joni's sickness came in.

"You look like your father," Joni groaned. "You've got his eyes. _And_ his shaped mouth."

"You've told me that, Ma," Melanie said, her voice soft. "But I think I look more like you."

Letting out a wheezy laugh, Joni closed her eyes for a moment.

"Ma, you've gotta take your painkillers, okay?" Melanie pressed. "You won't be able to sleep if you don't take them."

"I'll be fine."

"No, you won't."

"Why are you taking care of me?"

"That's my job," Melanie said. "I'm your daughter, I'm _supposed_ to take care of you."

Groaning, Joni shook her head. "That's _my_ job," she rasped, her voice trembling. "I'm supposed to take care of _you_."

Giving her mother's hand a gentle squeeze, Melanie let out a soft sigh. Ever since she got sick, Joni was filled with so much regret. She started by apologizing profusely, claiming she failed as a mother. It didn't matter how often Melanie tried to reassure her mother, it wouldn't make much of a difference. Joni was convinced she ruined her daughter's life, and as a result, doomed Oliver, as well.

"You'll be better in no time, Ma," Melanie stated, trying to keep her voice firm. "I've almost got enough money to get a doctor in here. He'll be able to take care of you."

Joni's eyes opened just a crack, looking over at Melanie tearfully. "You deserved more than me," she whispered. "You deserved so much more than me."

Swallowing thickly, Melanie shook her head. "You're enough," she said. "You and Oliver are _more_ than enough."

Removing her hand from her mother's Melanie opened the bottle of painkillers and poured two onto her hand. "I've got the medicine right here, Ma," she said. "All I need is for you to open your mouth."

Looking at her daughter with a small frown, Joni nodded. Slowly sitting up, with a pained groan escaping her mouth, a trembling hand took the painkillers from Melanie and carefully placed them in her mouth.

"Thank you," Melanie said. Helping her mother lay back down, the teen kissed Joni's forehead before leaving the room.

 **...**

After leaving Joni's room, Melanie made her way over to Oliver's. The three and a half year old was still in his bed, but was wide awake. He was typically a quiet child, not making a big fuss out of things unless he really had to. Which, of course, was rare. Behavior wise, the worse Oliver ever got was throwing a temper tantrum in a grocery store because he couldn't get a candy bar. Melanie tried reasoning with him, but he wasn't having it. In the end, he still didn't get it.

"Hey, Ollie," Melanie cooed. Oliver's face lit up at the sight of his sister. Considering she was the one raising him, their bond was almost unbreakable. "Did you have a nice nap?"

"Yeah!" Oliver exclaimed.

Gently scooping him out of the crib, Melanie held him against her hip as she waddled out of the room. Her half-brother was big, even at three. It was surprising, practically depressing, seeing him grow up so fast.

"Are you hungry, Ollie?"

With his arms wrapped around her neck, and his face buried under her chin, he nodded.

"Okay, sweetie," Melanie murmured. "Let's get you some food."

Sitting him in his highchair, she made sure he was secured before getting some baby food. The one thing Melanie was thankful for was how Oliver wasn't very picky. He'd eat anything that looked the teensiest bit edible.

Grabbing a box of cereal, Melanie took a bowl our of a cupboard and poured the cereal in. The look on Oliver's face was one of moderate enthusiasm. Cereal wasn't his _favorite_ thing to eat, but he'd consume it nonetheless.

"I'm sorry, big guy," Melanie sighed. "We don't have much to go with this week."

Finances in the Salinas household was scarce. Melanie was working two jobs, on top of trying to go to school, and paying the apartment's rent and utilities. She was the only one who was keeping the family barely above water. Whatever money wasn't being used for bills or rent, Melanie would use for food, clothes, and medicine. Whatever was left from _that_ would be put in the Savings Jar for Joni's doctor. It was very important that whatever change Melanie had be put aside. Even spare change found in the street was useful.

Melanie, however, found herself cutting back severely on what she used her money on. Food was cut back as a result, as much as it pained her to do so. She only managed to get a box of cereal, some fairly below-average looking fruits, and bread. Melanie was hoping to use the fruits for _some_ thing, she just didn't know yet.

"Mama?" Oliver asked, placing some cereal in his mouth.

"You wanna see Mama later?" Melanie asked. The three year old nodded enthusiastically. In a way, it was almost heartbreaking, knowing Oliver was so eager to see his mother in such a deteriorated state. Joni's illness was in no way her fault, but there were parts of Melanie that wanted to shield her brother from their mother's frailty. Joni was starting to deteriorate at a faster rate, and if a doctor wasn't brought in immediately, then the siblings would be orphaned and possibly on the streets.

 _That's not gonna happen,_ Melanie thought. _I won't let that happen._

From the moment Joni got sick, it became a deep rooted belief that she'd get better. The idea of her succumbing to the illness seemed almost impossible, even though it was very well happening. Joni Salinas was dying, slowly and painfully, in front of her children. No amount of painkillers would help slow it down; hell, it was probably helping the disease progress. For Melanie, though, she knew that the painkillers helped dull Joni's discomfort just a little, only enough to help her sleep for some time.

Looking over at Oliver, Melanie felt the backs of her eyes prickle with tears. She loved her brother dearly; she'd do anything to secure his well-being. That was her duty as his sister. Oliver wasn't old enough to understand what was happening. In his head, Joni would get better. In his head, nothing really mattered as long as he had his mother and sister. That was all he needed. For Melanie, she wanted to make sure he was comfortable, that he was healthy, and he had a future to look forward to. Living in a rundown apartment in the bad part of Brooklyn wasn't going to give him the life she wanted.

The whole reason the family moved to Brooklyn was to start over. But it felt like an even bigger disaster than before.

 **...**

Bucky liked to pride himself in helping that girl out in the pharmacy. He saw her fierceness, her inability to back down. He admired her for that. Not only that, though, but Bucky could tell she was desperate. The way she argued with the pharmacy manager, the underlining urgency in her tone — he couldn't ignore that. That girl was in such desperate need to get that medication, he couldn't stand not helping her. Sure, it cost him a few bucks, but it was worth it in his eyes. Steve would have to understand why he didn't get any tissues, right? He had plenty already.

Letting out a frustrated sigh, Bucky shook his head. Steve would understand, right? There was a dame in need of helping, and it wasn't right to just leave her in such a bad situation. Bucky had been taught to help people in need. He'd helped Steve when the bullies were going at him, that's how they became best friends. Maybe, in the near future, Bucky would get the opportunity to see that girl again. Maybe, in that moment, he'd be able to really get a good look at her.

* * *

 **(A/N):**

 **I know, I know — it took too long for this to be posted. I planned on having it up sooner, but I got a bit sidetracked. Hopefully you guys can overlook that! Other than that, I'm hoping you guys can leave some constructive criticism where you think it's due. I didn't want to go overboard with information in the first chapter, since that can be a bit overwhelming. Also, this chapter probably isn't the best, either, so I'd like to apologize in advanced. Other than that, I'll leave it at that.**

 **The MCU does not belong to me. All I own are my OCs, my subplots, and the bamboo plants in my room. If you've got ideas for OCs or subplots, be sure to PM me or leave a review. I'll add them in as soon as possible.**

 **This story will take place in the Captain America: The First Avenger time period, but before WWII. I'd say Steve & Bucky are teens during this time. I'll be sure to go into more detail on Melanie's backstory as the chapters progress, just so there's some development and whatnot.**

 **And that's all I've got to say about that!**

 **Be sure to leave random facts in the review section. It can be about things you've learned recently, or things you've known about for a while.**

 **Blessed be,**

 **Florida Mayers**


	2. Chapter 2

_Time flies by in the yellow and green_  
 _Stick around and you'll see what I mean_  
 _There's a mountaintop that I'm dreaming of_  
 _If you need me you know were I'll be_

-Shotgun; **by George Ezra**

* * *

Melanie watched as Oliver tried interacting with their mother. He was trying his best, but it was difficult for both of them. Joni was physically and emotionally exhausted, and Melanie could tell her half-brother was getting frustrated by what was unfolding in front of him. It was understandable, the level of exasperation that Oliver was feeling, in a way she knew how he felt. Joni's deteriorating health was out of everyone's control, but the emotional tole it took on everyone was beyond words.

For Oliver, he was too young to truly understand what was happening. At only three, he didn't really know why Joni was bedridden. He didn't know her body was failing, that she couldn't physically, mentally, or emotionally be there for him. Melanie had to step in and be the big sister and mother figure. It wasn't fair, but there was nothing that could be done about it.

"You've gotten so big, honey," Joni rasped, looking at Oliver with clouded eyes. "I can't believe it."

"Play with us?" Oliver asked; there was a small glimmer of hope in his eyes. That was a question he asked a lot, but the answer was always the same. Melanie's heart broke every time Joni had to refuse. The look of absolute heartbreak that would overtake Oliver's features was overwhelming, and it brought a lot of pain for everyone involved.

"Why don't we stay here?" Joni asked. "You can tell me stories. Is that okay?"

A pout came across Oliver's features. It was his signature pout — the one he'd give when he didn't like the answer he was given. For Melanie, she knew how to see through that look, but their mother wasn't as successful. She didn't spend as much time with her son, so it made sense that she'd fall for the pout.

"Baby, you know I can't get out of bed," she replied hoarsely. "It hurts for me to move. Can't you just tell me a story? I'd love to hear one."

"Ma loves your stories, Ollie," Melanie added.* "She hasn't heard any of yours in a long time."

There was a long silence as they gauged Oliver's reaction. The pout was still prominent on his face, but it softened a bit after Melanie's explanation. It was true that Joni appreciated her son's story-times. He was very imaginative, going on and on about the worlds and characters he created. Oliver would get so animated, it brought a temporary sense of normalcy.

"Could you do that for Ma, Ollie?" Melanie pushed, gently rubbing her brother's back. "It would help her feel better."

"Really?" he asked.

"They always do," Joni groaned.

 **...**

Listening to Oliver tell his stories were the highlight of the early afternoon. He went on an imaginative adventure, expressing himself with his entire body. The whole room lit up with the childlike excitement and happiness of being able to tell his stories. Melanie and Joni were always appreciative of how animated he could get during that time, considering how quiet he could get. It was a refreshing little time, for sure.

But, as usual, it would have to come to an end eventually.

"Ollie, why don't we let Ma rest?" Melanie suggested.

Joni's eyes were starting to close, a sign of exhaustion. She managed to stay awake for almost half an hour, which was an improvement compared to previous times. If her pain wasn't intense, she'd be able to stay conscious for a total of fifteen to twenty minutes altogether. But nearly half an hour? It was a good sign!

"Tomorrow?" he asked, his breathing labored.

Joni hummed in tired agreement, in which Melanie nodded at her brother. Oliver's eyes were still glittering happily, his small hands grabbing his sister's as they existed Joni's room.

Once the door was shut behind them, Melanie scooped Oliver into her arms and led them to her bedroom. Just outside her window was a fire escape, her little Safe Spot. It was on that fire escape that Melanie could think about all the things she wanted to do with her life. She'd sometimes sit there for hours, thinking so far ahead, her mind would start spinning. One of Melanie's biggest dreams was to become a doctor. To her, it didn't matter if it was an impossible feat, she was willing to try. The medical field was run mostly by men, with very few women having the balls to go and one-up their competitors. Melanie wanted to prove herself, too. She wanted to be recognized as a successful doctor.

No, a successful _Afro-Latina_ doctor.

Taking care of Joni was what inspired Melanie to develop that dream. So, in a sense, all that time taking care of her sick mother helped her in the long run.

"You ready to go to my Safe Spot?" Melanie asked, looking at Oliver.

He nodded excitedly.

Putting Oliver down, Melanie yanked her window open and climbed through, making sure her pants didn't get caught on anything. The one thing Melanie was thankful for was that her mother wasn't too picky on what her children wore. As a result, Melanie chose to wear pants over skirts or dresses any day.

Once over the window, the teen picked her brother up and gently carried him over. Taking a minute to sit down, Melanie placed Oliver between her legs in an attempt to secure him. The two siblings were able to overlook their neighborhood from the view, to see how everyone interacted with each other and how uneventful everything seemed to be.*

People were walking down sidewalks and hurrying across the streets. Cars were making their way down the road, honking at anyone who got in the way. From Melanie's perspective, everything that was going on — all the hustle and bustle of everyone and every _thing_ — was a typical day in New York. There wasn't a single moment where anyone chose to rest. People had places to be, cars were always honking and on the move, there were trolleys going back and forth between their destinations.

A typical day in Brooklyn. In New York, in general.

Letting out a sigh, Melanie's arms tightened just a fraction around Oliver. She was so interested in the people in her community. They all had their own lives, their own goals and ambitions. Every single person in her little neighborhood had something they wanted to do, places they wanted to see. Despite having moved to Brooklyn only six months prior, Melanie was already on a first name basis with a good number of the people in her community. It was surprising, how fast they accepted her and her family. When Melanie, Joni, and Oliver lived in the Bronx, not very many people really cared for the Salinas family. Sure, there were a few nice people, but the rest had their own agenda. They couldn't be bothered with anyone else.

Melanie enjoyed the different atmosphere in Brooklyn.

"Mel," Oliver exclaimed. He pointed a finger in the direction of a building. An ice cream parlor.

Melanie looked down at her brother with an arched brow. "We're tight on money, Ollie," she claimed. "Ice cream is pretty expensive."

Then came the signature pout. The one Joni had so much trouble resisting. Melanie and Oliver continued to look each other in the eye, the pout going on at full force. He was a very dedicated three year old, that much was certain. But Melanie liked to think she was very firm in not giving in to him. Sadly, though, there were still moments where she caved. Oliver hadn't been able to get things _he_ wanted in a while; all because of financial hardships. It wasn't fair to him.

"You wanna go to Pop's?" Melanie asked. Oliver nodded enthusiastically. "Fine. Let's go."

 **...**

Pop's was a popular ice cream parlor in Melanie's neighborhood. It was run by an older man _called_ Pop. He was loved and respected in his community, considering he always gave such good advice on how to handle certain situations. For Melanie, he was the closest thing to a grandfather for her. Her paternal grandparents had disowned her father shortly after marrying Joni, and her maternal grandparents still lived in the Dominican. So, it's safe to say she didn't have a relationship with any of them. Pop was the closest Melanie ever got to a grandparent-like figure.

When she and Oliver entered the shop, after taking a few minutes to get ready, they were greeted by some of the customers inside. One of them was Rosemarie, a woman somewhere in her forties. She lived with her sister and three nephews, since an accident had her unable to take care of herself.

"Is that Oliver?" Rosemarie asked. She squinted her eyes at the three year old, as if trying to get a better look at him.

"It is," Melanie responded. "He wanted to get some ice cream today."

"He's getting so big," she exclaimed. "I remember when he was a little thing."

Chuckling, Melanie nodded. "Yeah," she said. "He's growing up too fast, that's for sure."

Oliver was clutching onto his sister's leg, looking at everyone shyly. He would keep burying his face into Melanie's leg, all the while giving brief glances at everyone in the parlor.

"Mellie!" Pop's voice rang through his shop, loud and jovial as always. When Melanie turned to look at him, she smiled at the bright smile on his face. Pop's wild, curly hair was pretty much all white and gray, his beard trimmed down but showing signs of age, too. His arms were extended, as if waiting for a hug. With a laugh, Melanie brought Oliver over so she could do just that. "I haven't seen you in here in a long time," Pop exclaimed, giving her the biggest hug. "What's been going on?"

"Not much," Melanie laughed, hugging him back. "Taking care of Oliver and our mother."

For a split second, Pop's gaze went to the three year old, who was attempting to hide behind his sister. "He's a shy one," he boomed, letting go of the hug.

"He really is."

"How's your mother holding up?"

The question caused Melanie's heart to clench. She gave a brief shake of her head. She could only hope Oliver didn't see it.

Sighing, Pop nodded. "She'll get better," he said. "She's strong, just like you kids."

"How's your doctor fund comin' along?" The question came from Hope, an elderly lady sitting at one of the booths. Hope knew everybody in their neighborhood; on top of that, she knew everything going on in everyone's lives. Joni's health and Melanie's doctor funds were just a few.

"I'm almost there," Melanie responded, taking Oliver to a nearby table. "Just a little more, and I can get a doctor to come down and check Ma."

"I admire what you're doin'," Hope responded, "if there was anythin' I could do to help. . ."

"You don't have to," Melanie interrupted. "I appreciate your concern, but I've got it."

"Did you want the usual?" Pop asked. When Melanie first moved to Brooklyn, she used to come all the time to the parlor. The one thing she always got was an ice cream sundae.

Melanie nodded. "Thanks, Pop," she said. "What do you want, Ollie?"

He shrugged his shoulders, his gaze downward and his cheeks flushed. Oliver was a bit overwhelmed with what was going on.

"Can we have two, Pop?" Melanie called.

"Sure thing, sweetie."

When the sixteen year old's gaze went back to her half-brother, she sighed. He wasn't saying much, and he definitely wasn't interacting with anyone. It was something she expected to happen. At the best of times, Oliver was a quiet kid. He rarely had temper tantrums, and rarely attempted to make a scene. Melanie was appreciative of that. It made things easier in the Salinas household. But at the same time, Oliver's quietness worried Melanie. What if, as he got older, he couldn't properly interact with other people? He was so shy around other people, it got the teen thinking. It broke her heart at the thought of him never being able to develop relationships outside of his family.

"Here you go," Pop said, putting two bowls of sundaes in front of the kids. There was still a jovial look in his eyes, but at the same time, he looked at the siblings sympathetically. Pop knew more than anyone what it was like to lose family to illness. He lost both his parents — _and_ a brother — to sicknesses.

"Thanks," Melanie said.

"Let me know if you need anything else."

Melanie handed Oliver his spoon, urging him to start eating. He quickly took it from his sister's hand, and looked at the dessert happily. Seeing the glittering excitement in his eyes was a definite reassurance.

"Dig in, Ollie," Melanie chuckled. "You don't want it to melt, do you?"

 **...**

Joni remembered the day she first came to America. It had been a very emotional time for her, considering she'd never been outside her own country before. Having grown up in the Dominican Republic, she only knew what her home had to offer. She'd never been given the opportunity to see outside of all that. Joni's parents tried to convince her not to leave, but she wouldn't listen. In her eyes, she deserved a better life. Where she was born, where she grew up, wasn't offering that anymore. So Joni's travels to America began.

Her travels led her from Cuba to Florida, and it took _months_ to get there. Almost a full year, if Joni's memory serves. But it was worth it in the end. She fell in love with the country, with the people and the culture — but that admiration was short lived. People in the Southern states weren't so. . . _accepting_ of Juni. Her skin color and initial inability to speak and understand English put her in a bad spot. She was attacked a lot, and she knew she had to get out as quickly as possible. The only problem was hardly anyone spoke Spanish, so there was a big language barrier.

After weeks of living in fear in the South, Joni met a man named Joel. He was an African American, and he spoke broken Spanish.* For Joni, that was good enough. The duo traveled to the North, where their travels developed a romantic attraction between the two. They married and Melanie was born a year and a half later. When Joel died years later, Joni's life fell apart. He was the first, and seemingly _only_ , man who'd been kind to her after coming to the country.

There were a lot of things Joni regretted after Joel's death. She regretted how neglected Melanie must've felt after her father's death. She regretted how Oliver would grow up without a mother _or_ father.* But most of all, Joni regretted how her children were having to take care of _her_. It wasn't fair to them. Parents took care of their children, not the other way around.

The one thing Joni regretted most of all, though, was how she succumbed to her illness while her children were away.

* * *

 **(A/N):**

 **Sorry for the wait on this chapter! Looking back at it, I don't know how I feel about the final result, but I'll leave that to you guys. Give constructive criticism where you think it's due, guys. I'd appreciate it.***

 **The MCU does not belong to me. All I own are my OCs, my subplots, and the cell phone in my room. If you've got ideas for an OC or a subplot, all you've got to do is PM me or leave a review. I'll add them in as soon as possible.**

 **So this story, if you're curious, begins in 1935. Which means Melanie is 16; Oliver is 3; Steve is 17; and Bucky is 18. I know I didn't put in anywhere the year this story takes place, but I think I mentioned in the previous chapter it's before WWII. I figured I'd give you guys a foundation of sorts, so you guys don't have to guess or anything.**

 **And in case you're wondering where I got the ages for Steve & Bucky, I went onto the Marvel WIKI page for their characters and looked at the years they were born. For Bucky, it said he was born in 1917; and Steve was born in 1918. So yeah. That's how I did it.**

 **Be sure to leave random facts in the review section! It could be on something new or old, I don't care.**

 **Blessed be,**

 **Florida Mayers**


	3. Chapter 3

_Everybody's got a hungry heart_  
 _Everybody's got a hungry heart_  
 _Lay down your money and you play your part_  
 _Everybody's got a hungry heart_

-Hungry Heart; **by Bruce Springsteen**

* * *

Melanie and Oliver stayed at Pop's for about half an hour, the two siblings enjoying their sundaes and the time they were spending together. Some of the other customers talked to them, telling them about their day or giving advice on their future. It was nice, being able to hear what others had to say and having a moment to just relax. But at the same time, Melanie knew the risks she and Oliver were taking by being in the parlor for too long. Leaving Joni by herself for long periods of time was dangerous, they couldn't afford to have anything happen to her.

While Oliver finished his sundae, Melanie went over to the counter Pop was at and started digging for her money in her pocket.

"How much for the sundaes?" she asked.

"Don't worry about it," Pop said.

Looking up at him with furrowed brows, Melanie frowned. "What do you mean?" she stated. "I can't just _not_ pay you."

"You need that money more than I do, sweetie." Giving her a warm smile, Pop placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. "Use it for your mother's doctor. She needs that treatment."

With a hint of a smile on her face Melanie nodded. She did feel a bit guilty for not paying, but she knew how stubborn Pop could be sometimes. It was almost impossible to argue with him once his mind was made up.

"You and your brother head on home, okay?" Pop said. "It was nice seeing you again, Mellie."

"It was nice seeing you, too, Pop," Melanie said.

"You two take care of yourselves, alright?" he said, his tone becoming firm. "And give your mother a hug for me."

"I will."

The two shared a smile before Melanie walked back over to where Oliver was sitting. He'd finished his ice cream, though he did get most of it on his face and shirt. With a chuckle, the teen managed to clean his face and wave a goodbye to everyone in the parlor before leaving.

"Did you have fun?" Melanie asked. She and Oliver were quickly walking across the street to their apartment building. The streets weren't as busy as usual, which was a good sign.

"Was fun," Oliver murmured, gripping Melanie's hand tightly.

"When we get home, I have to give Ma her painkillers, then _you_ need a bath, okay?"

"No!" The exclamation was sharp and loud, causing a few other pedestrians to turn and look at them.

"You've gotten ice cream all over your shirt," Melanie stated, her voice firm. "Not to mention your face is sticky from it, too. You're going to clean up and I'll make you something to eat in a little bit."

He let out a huff and tried tugging himself out of Melanie's grip. His attempts were ignored and they continued their journey back to their apartment. Bath time could usually be an issue with Oliver, considering his disdain for having to wash off the day's events. Melanie liked to believe that, in her brother's three year old mind, the junk he gathered on his body over the course of the day symbolized something important. Either that or he just thoroughly enjoyed being stinky. It didn't matter, in the long run. Oliver would have to get clean whether he liked it or not.*

When they reached their apartment building, Melanie had to practically _drag_ Oliver up the front steps and into the building itself. His dislike on having to take his bath became overwhelming, and he was doing everything in his power to not go into their small apartment. Melanie's trick to ignore her brother's attitude change seemed to fuel his need to make an even bigger scene. Oliver would tug and pull and scratch at his sister's arm, doing whatever his three year old mind could think of. When it _finally_ came to his attention that it wasn't working, he essentially gave up and started going limp. He couldn't take his bath if he wasn't moving.

 _Fuck it,_ Melanie thought bitterly. When she and Oliver reached the building's stairway, she reached down and picked her brother up, holding him securely on her hip. The one good thing, though was that their apartment was on the second floor, so she wouldn't have to walk up too far.

"This is the _last_ time I do anything for you," Melanie hissed, "do you understand what I'm saying?"

Oliver simply _hmph_ 'd in response. His arms were lazily slung around Melanie's neck, his face was looking off in another direction, refusing to meet the hateful look on his sister's face.

 _God, now isn't the time for him to be acting up,_ Melanie thought. As she started walking up the stairs, she had to continually stop in order to adjust Oliver. _He was doing just fine in the ice cream parlor, now he has to act up._

It seemed as though her frustration grew with each step. Oliver wanted some ice cream, despite money being tight, and Melanie decided to go against her better judgment and buy not one, but _two_ sundaes for herself and her brother.

 _I should've been more stern with him. Now he'll think I'll let him do anything._ Melanie's face contorted into a scowl at that. _I don't know how I can explain to a three year old the importance of finances, but I'll have to figure a way out. He can't get it into his head that I'll let him get whatever he wants._

Wouldn't it be nice to have that? To think of a child-friendly way to explain that the Salinas family didn't have enough money! It'd be amazing to think something like that was possible. At the same time, though, Oliver probably wouldn't _want_ to listen, considering he wouldn't find any of that _interesting_.

God, as if things couldn't get any more frustrating.

"If I put you down, will you behave?" Melanie grumbled. Oliver simply grunted in response. Without another word, Melanie placed her brother on the ground, keeping a firm grip on his wrist. Continuing their journey, the siblings made it to their floor and quietly made their way over to their apartment. At that point, Oliver had finished throwing his little tantrum and chose to go along with what Melanie was doing. She was in charge and there was nothing that could change that. "When we get inside," Melanie started, walking up to their front door, "I'll give Ma her painkillers and then get your bath ready. No arguing this time, okay?"

Again, Oliver simply grunted in response. He refused to meet her gaze, his bottom lip stuck out in a pout.

Opening the door, Melanie pushed her brother inside before closing it behind her. Initially, she wasn't really paying attention to the apartment's atmosphere. To Melanie, it felt like another day. But as she took her shoes off, she started to notice something a bit off. It was really quiet, aside from the commotion Oliver was making. The three year old had thrown his shoes off and was running around, trying to find toys to play with and things to do.

Aside from that, the quietness in the apartment made something churn in the pit of Melanie's stomach. It didn't feel right in the slightest. Once her shoes were off, the teen ran over to where Joni's room was and threw the door open. An exclamation was on the _tip_ of Melanie's tongue, but fell short almost immediately. Juni was still in her bed, laying on her back with her hands on her stomach. That wasn't what caught Melanie's attention. The one thing she noticed was the look on her mother's face. Joni's eyes were open and unblinking, her mouth slightly agape. Her pale skin seemed even whiter, almost pasty. There seemed to be a glazed over look in her eyes, too; one that hadn't been there before.

Tears burned the backs of Melanie's eyes. Her breathing became labored and her head started spinning. Everything in her life seemed to fall apart, and Melanie was just watching it happen. She had helped take care of her mother since Oliver was a year old. That was over _two_ _years_.

Two years of Melanie's life had been looking after her infant brother and sickly mother. Two years, working more than one job while trying to get an education. Two years, hoping that one day there'd be enough money for a doctor to come in. Melanie had done everything she possibly could to give her mother some comfort and her brother a good foundation. Now Juni was dead. The two siblings were orphaned; their extended families either lived outside of the country or wanted nothing to do with them.

A choked sob escaped the sixteen year old's mouth. Hot tears rolled heavily down her face. In Melanie's eyes, it felt as if she didn't have a purpose anymore. Without her mother to take care of, what could she do? She'd still be able to care for Oliver — hopefully — but for how long? Melanie had dreams of becoming a doctor, so medical school was one thing she dreamed of going to. She couldn't afford to take Oliver with her if she wanted to go to medical school.

Leaving the bedroom, Melanie felt another sob escape her mouth. Her hands were trembling and her breathing was so erratic it hurt. Her head was spinning so much she felt as though she'd faint.

Rushing to the apartment's front door, Melanie tried for a minute or two to open the front door, but her shaking hands made it hard. When she got the door opened, she ran over to her neighbor's. Slamming the palm of her hand on the door, Melanie waited for someone to answer. The tears continued to roll down her face, and she was trying her best to compose herself.

After what felt like a lifetime of waiting, the door finally opened and Melanie's neighbor, Isobel, appeared.

"Sweetie, what's the matter?" she exclaimed, her eyes widening. Isobel Giovanni was a younger woman who immigrated from Italy. The entire apartment building adored her, admiring her kind attitude and gentle demeanor.

It was that question that really caused Melanie to break down.

 **...**

Isobel watched as Melanie cried. It was so unlike the teen to be like that; it was frightening! The Salinas family usually kept to themselves if they could help it.

"Sweetie, you _have_ to tell me what's going on," Isobel pressed. Her hands flew out and gripped Melanie's shoulders tightly. The young girl's sobbing seemed to interrupt whatever she was trying to say. Hastily bringing Melanie into her apartment, Isobel did a quick check to make sure she wan't hurt, and when that was out of the way, she held the teen's face up to look at her. The tears never ceased falling, and the teen's eyes, cheeks, and nose were red from crying so hard. "Hon, you've _got_ to tell me what's going on," Isobel exclaimed.

Quickly removing herself from Isobel's grasp, Melanie ran a hand through her hair, looking extremely disturbed. Her mouth kept opening, like she wanted to say something, but the words weren't coming out. That was when Isobel started to notice something a little off. There was a change in the air, that was the first sign. It had gotten heavier, weighing down in Isobel's lungs in the most uncomfortable way.

"Melanie?" Isobel exclaimed. She tried reaching out to the teen, but it felt like some invisible force was holding her back. "That's your name, right? Look, I need you to calm down, okay? You need to _calm_ down!"

Turning her head abruptly to the Italian woman, Melanie's eyes widened. Her breathing was labored and her head was still spiraling, it felt like she'd lost control of herself. She couldn't seem to formulate a single, coherent thought and her words just couldn't escape her mouth. None of what was going on made sense. Joni seemed to be fine when the siblings left to get ice cream; now she's not breathing. How could that be explained calmly? Isobel might have good intentions, but in the mind of an emotional teenage girl, it was going over her head.

"I can't," Melanie sputtered, after taking a minute or two to actually formulate her words. "I. . .I don't know what's happening!"

Isobel struggled to find it in her to move, but her body felt as though it was being restricted. No matter what she did, her body just wouldn't move. She watched anxiously as Melanie continued to run her hands through her hair, looking around with big, wild eyes. Out of the corner of Isobel's eyes, she noticed some of her belongings were trembling, as if they were wanting to move but being restricted, as well.

"Melanie," Isobel cried out, " _please_ let me help you!"

In a split second, all the glass in Isobel's apartment exploded, and the older woman felt as though the wind had been knocked out of her. Pain washed over the Italian woman's body, and she placed a trembling hand over her chest. Melanie had gone still, her eyes still big but her body stiff. Isobel saw the teen's eyes looking at all the broken glass on the ground, and then to where she'd been thrown against the wall.

Slowly standing up, Isobel struggled to make her way over to where Melanie was standing. She could practically _see_ the fear radiating off the sixteen year old, and it made her feel a great sense of remorse, but also fearful.

"Melanie, please," Isobel rasped, kneeling down in front of her. "Tell me what happened."

* * *

 **(A/N):**

 **Sorry for the wait on this chapter, but here it is! If you've got any constructive criticism, don't hesitate to let me know, okay? I'd very much appreciate it.**

 **The MCU does not belong to me. All I own are my OCs, my subplot, and the keyboard in my room. If you've got ideas for an OC or a subplot, don't hesitate to PM me or leave a review. I'll add them in as soon as possible.**

 **Again, constructive criticism will be greatly appreciated. I don't know how to improve this story if I don't know how you guys think it's going. It'll help me in the long run, really.**

 **Also, in case any of you are wondering, Melanie's hair is kinda like an afro. . .but it feels weird using that word descriptively. So I'd appreciate any help from you guys when it comes to properly describing the hair styles of other ethnicities. I'm half-black myself, but my hair's kinda thin and wavy/loosely curled. So, yeah. That's one big thing I'd love to have some help with: describing, accurately and appropriately, the hairstyles of other ethnic groups.**

 **Be sure to leave random facts in the review section! It can be on new or old things, I don't care.**

 **Blessed be,**

 **Florida Mayers**


	4. Chapter 4

_"Mutants. Since the discovery of their existence, they have been regarded with fear, suspicion, often hatred. Across the planet, debate rages. Are mutants the next link in the evolutionary chain or simply a new species of humanity fighting for their share of the world? Either way, it is a historic fact: Sharing the world has never been has never been humanity's defining attribute."_

-Charles Xavier; **from X2** (2003)

* * *

Isobel listened to Melanie's story, not once interrupting, even for a minute. She wanted to understand what was going through the teen's head; what was the reasoning behind the earlier freak out? The one thing Isobel _couldn't_ understand — the one thing that still had her uneasy with fear — was all the glass in her apartment breaking. She could only assume Melanie's behavior previously had something to do with that incident happening, but coming up with a reasonable explanation would be a bit difficult. But when the teen's explanation came to a close, Isobel pursed her lips and let out a defeated sigh.

"Are you going to stay calm, Melanie?" Isobel asked, doing her best to keep her voice steady.

"I just. . .I don't know what's going on," Melanie exclaimed, her voice cracking. "My mother is dead, and I left Oliver back in the apartment." That was when the realization seemed to hit her at full force. She'd left her brother in the apartment their mother's body was in. "Oh God," she stammered. "I have to get him; I _have_ to. . ."

Placing her hands firmly on the teen's shoulders, Isobel managed to catch her attention. "You stay here, okay?" she stated. "I'll get Oliver. I want you to stay right here and calm yourself down. He doesn't need to see you like this."

Isobel found it to be a miracle she could maintain such a calm demeanor. Her blood was running cold and she felt her heart beating a mile a minute. How could she be talking to Melanie so calmly? It didn't make an ounce of sense. Was it because she didn't want to deal with more destruction in her apartment? Or was it out of genuine concern for Melanie?

The teen's gaze looked at Isobel anxiously. Wringing her hands in front of her, she nodded, and took deep, shaky breaths. Oliver couldn't see her in such a pathetic state. He was probably just as confused as she was. It wasn't fair to him, either; being, essentially, abandoned in their apartment. But Isobel was going to get him, which was more than Melanie could've asked for.

And without another word from Isobel, she hurriedly left the apartment.

Once alone, Melanie carefully sat herself down on a nearby recliner. She wiped her eyes, hoping to erase any traces of tears before Isobel arrived with Oliver. The one thing he'd be able to notice, however, were her red eyes and nose. The three year old could be observant when he wanted to be, which was rare on certain occasions.

 _God, how do I explain this to Oliver?_ Melanie thought. Her initial emotions became overshadowed by a feeling of dread. What _was_ the best way to tell him? He was only three, he didn't have a good understanding on what death meant. Oliver didn't know that dying meant going away forever. Joni was the only parent the three year old knew; his paternal family either didn't know of his existence, or wanted nothing to do with him. There was no in-between.* Taking a deep breath, Melanie ran her hands over her face. She had to think of something quick, or things would go even further downhill. _As if that's even possible,_ she thought bitterly.

"Pull yourself together," Melanie hissed. "This isn't about _you_. It's about Oliver."

That had to be her motto. Before, it was about keeping Joni healthy and alive; now, it's about keeping Oliver safe and healthy. _That_ was Melanie's job.

When the door to Isobel's apartment opened, the sixteen year old watched with a deep frown as the older woman and Oliver hurriedly shuffled inside. The three year old's eyes were wide with confusion and apprehension. He looked around anxiously before his gaze fell on Melanie's. In an instant, he was at her side.

"Something wrong?" he asked, burying his face in Melanie's neck.

"Yes," she responded. "Something _is_ wrong."

Oliver removed his head from his sister's neck, looking at her confusedly. He wasn't expecting an answer like that, he was hoping for a little bit of reassurance. None of what was going on made an ounce of sense, and he wanted to know why he was at someone else's apartment and not the one he shared with his family. What happened that made Melanie abandon him in their home? Was it something _really_ bad?

"Ollie, I need you to _really_ pay attention to what I'm saying, okay?" Melanie said, her voice soft. An uneasiness fell over Oliver. "When I went into Ma's room, to give her her medicine, I. . ." She broke off for a minute, her words catching in her throat. How could she explain to her brother their mother was _dead_? Or at least _looked_ dead. She wanted to believe that maybe she was seeing things, that maybe Joni had been just fine and she overreacted. But no living person would look the way their mother did. There was no doubt in Melanie's mind that Joni had passed. Taking a deep breath, the teen chose to continue. "Ollie, Ma is in Heaven," she said softly.

The look that came across Oliver's face was one Melanie wished she'd never have to see again. The three year old's bottom lip was trembling and his eyes were tearing up. Melanie's heart ached at the sight, and she felt her eyes watering up, as well. Joni was their only parent, the one person they've known their entire lives. At least, that's how it was for Oliver. Melanie had the privilege of knowing who her father was before his death. But with Joni's untimely demise, that left her two children essentially orphaned with, possibly, nowhere else to go. The sixteen year old couldn't be responsible for taking care of her brother while trying to go to school and keep a roof over their heads. She could only do so much before things go sideways again.

"Melanie?" Isobel's voice cut into the siblings' moment. She looked not only deeply uncomfortable, but also greatly sympathetic for them. Their entire world was turned upside down in the blink of an eye. When Melanie's tear-filled eyes met Isobel's, there was a brief pause before the conversation continued. "I will have to call the authorities over," she stated calmly. "They'll have to be told of what happened today."

Nodding, the sixteen year old quickly wiped her eyes before looking back at Oliver. "Ollie, while Ms. Isobel is calling the authorities, I will be doing some cleaning, okay?" Melanie said.

A wet sob escaped the three year old's mouth, which caused a lump to form in Melanie's throat. She _hated_ seeing him so upset, but she knew he'd have to find out eventually. There was no use hiding information like that from him.

For the next ten to fifteen minutes, Melanie held her brother close while he cried. He got tears, snot, and a little bit of spit on her shirt, but it didn't matter. He was grieving in the only way he knew how. He was young, his emotions were more forthcoming than Melanie's. She had to comfort him and be the strong role model he needed. So while Oliver cried, Melanie would rub his back and try to calm him down by whatever means necessary. At that point, Isobel had finished her call. The Italian woman looked absolutely devastated.

There had to be something for her to do.

 **...**

Authorities came to Isobel's apartment around half an hour after she called. By that point, Melanie was cleaning up all the broken glass around the apartment. Oliver was whimpering on the sofa, rubbing his eyes tiredly. For authorities, it was quite the sight.*

When Isobel explained the situation to the authorities, they went into Melanie's apartment apprehensively. They weren't sure what to expect when they went inside.

"She'll be in her bedroom," Melanie had explained. "The door's closed, I didn't want to look."

For Isobel, she wrapped an arm around the teen's shoulders, keeping her close in an attempt to comfort her. It was sweet, but Melanie found it to be completely unnecessary. She wasn't in the mood for comfort, she wanted everything to go back to the way it used to be. She wanted her mother to be alive and healthy, she wanted Oliver to be the kid he was _supposed_ to be. Melanie wanted her father to be alive and she wanted to feel that security her life was lacking. But none of that seemed to matter anymore. Her life would no longer be _secure_ or comfortable. Melanie's life went from revolving around her mother's health and Oliver's well-being, to just worrying about her half-brother. In that moment, the teen knew she'd have to make great sacrifices for her brother to succeed.

 _Maybe try giving up on becoming a doctor,_ Melanie thought. There was a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach at that.

"Everything will be just fine," Isobel said, trying to sound convincing. "I promise you that."

"You don't have to lie," Melanie said, her voice dull, almost lifeless. "Oliver and I have nowhere else to go. I'll probably have to quit school to work full-time. That's _if_ the state doesn't separate us."

"That won't happen."

Turning her head slightly, the teen looked at Isobel with a deep frown. "What do you mean?" she asked.

"You and your brother will not be separated. I'll take you in."

"No." The statement was firm, without an ounce of room for argument. "You're not going to do that to yourself. And after what I did to your apartment. . .I can't let you shoulder us, Isobel. There's already too much going on right now."

"I'll admit," Isobel sighed, "I'm uncertain about how you were able to do all of that, but I _want_ to help you and your brother. You're both amazing children and I want what's best for you."

"Why?" Melanie crossed her arms over her chest. "What's in it for you?"

"What's in it for _me_?" Isobel arched a brow at that. "I get to see two intelligent children grow up to lead happy lives. And what you did earlier? With the glass? We can figure that out together. You've gone through enough trauma — you _and_ your brother have. Let me help you."

 **...**

It had to be some kind of twisted dream. That was how Melanie was interpreting it all. First, the trip with Oliver to Pop's. Then, the sight of Juni in her bedroom. All these things building up to Melanie, somehow, causing all the glass in Isobel's apartment to explode. Then having to listen to a random woman say she'd take in two children she barely knew? It didn't seem — at _all_ — like something a sane person would say. It really didn't.

Melanie's emotions had calmed down some, only because the numbness had started coming in. She let it take over her body, her mind. She allowed it to bring her temporary relief from the thickness of her other emotions. The grief and horror and confusion of seeing Joni was too much.* The guilt and horrendous sadness Melanie felt for telling Oliver was suffocating.

She didn't want Isobel to feel responsible for her _or_ Oliver. For Melanie, it made her feel like a liability more than anything. But on top of that, the teen found herself going back to what she did to Isobel's apartment. She'd gotten so emotional that all the glass spontaneously broke. How could that be properly explained? There was no way anyone could come up with a reasonable explanation. Melanie had to wonder if Isobel's sudden feeling of responsibility for the siblings was out of genuine concern or because of some ulterior motive. Was she going to hold what the teen did against her? Expose Melanie if she did something wrong? It was hard to say, really.

 _You've got to be careful,_ Melanie thought, fiddling with her fingers. _Isobel may seem like she's a nice woman, but she could turn on you in an instant._

Looking at her hands for a moment, the sixteen year old let out a sigh. Were her emotions the reason why all of Isobel's glass exploded? If so, then how could something like that happen? Melanie _wanted_ an explanation. She wanted to be told that it was all in her head, that she couldn't _possibly_ do something like that. But she'd spent a good portion of her time cleaning up the mess, and she knew that she had something to do with it. As badly as Melanie wanted to deny it, she did.

Glancing over at Oliver, the teen felt a frown form on her face. His eyes were red and puffy, his nose a bit red, too. He was laying on Isobel's chair, not really looking at anything in particular. Oliver refused to talk to anyone, to even _acknowledge_ his surroundings. It was a pitiful sight, but completely necessary for what had just happened.

"Kids?" Isobel's voice cut through the deafening silence. The siblings refused to leave their neighbor's apartment, not wanting to be involved in what was going on in any way. When Isobel was met with silence, she walked into her small living room, her brows furrowed in confusion. "Hey, how're you guys doing?" she asked.

"Are they gone?" Melanie asked.

"Not yet. They want to question you, Melanie."

 _Oh great._

A scowl formed on the teen's face.

"Please, just cooperate with them," Isobel said.

Standing up, Melanie gave one last look to Oliver before leaving the apartment. The teen saw paramedics coming in and out of her home, doing some evaluations on everything before talking quietly with each other. On the outside of Isobel's door, however, was a policeman.

"Are you Melanie?" he asked.

Melanie nodded wordlessly.

"I've got a few questions for you," he asked.

Again, the teen nodded.

"Okay. . .," he sighed. "The woman in there is your mother?"

"Yes."

"Can you tell me what happened to her?" he asked.

"She was sick," Melanie said. "I took my brother to get ice cream, and when we came back, she looked like _that_."

"Are you able to contact a relative? Your father? Grandparents?"

 _So she really is dead._

"My father is dead. I have no relatives nearby."

"Your brother has a different father, or. . .?"

Melanie nodded.

"Do you know his whereabouts?"

"No."

Letting out a sigh, the officer nodded. "Well, we're going to have to contact next of kin," he stated. "Ms. Giovanni said she'd allow you and your brother a place here, but we have to rule out other possibilities."*

 _Awesome._

* * *

 **(A/N):**

 **First off, sorry for the wait on this chapter. Second, I know it's not the best, but I hope you guys at least appreciate it. Lastly, be sure to leave constructive criticism where you think it's due. I'd greatly appreciate it, guys!**

 **The MCU does not belong to me. All I own are my OCs, my subplots, and the homework I have to finish. If you've got ideas for subplots or OCs, then leave a PM or a review and I'll add them in as soon as possible.**

 **Leave a random fact in the review section, if you've got one. It could be on something new or on something you've known already. I don't care. I'm a curious person.**

 **Blessed be,**

 **Florida Mayers**


	5. Chapter 5

_"People have their complexities. They have their heroic moments and their villainous moments, too."_

-Ryan Reynolds

* * *

The next couple weeks had been very stressful. As in, _extremely_ stressful. The authorities had been true to their word in contacting extended family, and it caused a whirlwind of chaos for the siblings. For starters, Melanie's father's family were the only ones who lived in the United States, so they were the ones cops brought in. Second, since Oliver's father was unknown, that meant there was the possibility of him being sent off somewhere Melanie _couldn't_ be. Lastly, Isobel fought tooth and nail to ensure the Salinas siblings not only stayed _together_ , but stayed with _her_.

Melanie found Isobel's dedication to be heartwarming, but also a bit frustrating. Since Melanie's paternal family were still alive, she could very well be sent off to live with them, which would mean being separated form Oliver. Sure, there was a slim chance of the three year old being put into Isobel's care, but, again, those chances were _slim_. Needless to say, things weren't really working out the way they were supposed to.

And it only seemed to get worse from there.

 **...**

"She can come live with me." Georgia McNamara, Melanie's middle-aged aunt, had traveled all the way from the South to ensure her niece had a place to stay. It was a bit unsettling, knowing a woman the sixteen year old had never met suddenly wanted _take_ her. Add a couple more unfamiliar relatives, and it made the teen feel as though she were living in some kind of weird nightmare. " _I_ pretty much raised the girl's father," Georgia went on. "There shouldn't be any reason why she should stay here."

"Ms. McNamara, we appreciate your concern, but we need to consider the other relatives, as well." An officer gave the older woman an apologetic smile. "We'll run some background tests on you, and then get back to you as soon as possible, okay?"

"That's nonsense," Georgia snapped. "My niece wasn't a young woman. I'm more than capable to take care of her."

After a couple more minutes of arguing, Georgia was eventually taken out of the policeman's office, leaving the officer and Melanie alone together. There was a long silence that fell over both of them, one that was _filled_ with frustration and defeat.

"I don't feel comfortable with this," Melanie said. "I don't know these people, and suddenly they're coming into my lives."

"I understand this is a frustrating time for you," the officer stated, "but once we have this squared away, you and your brother will have a nice place to live."

"We've been living with Isobel for the last couple weeks, why can't we keep living with her?"

"She's not a blood relative."

"None of the people I've seen today are related to Oliver," Melanie exclaimed, "and I know for a _fact_ you'll try and separate us. I've taken care of him since my mother got sick, you can't just take him away."

With a sigh, the officer pinched the bridge of his nose. "I'm doing the best I can here," he murmured. "There's only so much I can _legally_ do. So far, your aunt and a few cousins were the only ones who showed genuine interest in taking _you_ in."

"And _that's_ where I draw the line," Melanie snapped. "My father's relatives _never_ made an effort to see me before. They never cared about me before! I don't need to live with them."

When the officer looked at Melanie, there was a look in his eyes that made the teen uneasy. She couldn't quite explain it, either.

"Would you _like_ to stay with Ms. Giovanni?" he asked.

"Yes."

"Is she a good caretaker?"

" _Yes_."

"If I interviewed her _and_ your brother, would you be satisfied?"

"Yes."

That seemed to be all the officer needed to hear.

 **...**

While dealing with unfamiliar relatives proved to be unbearable, the one thing Melanie couldn't stand was the change in herself. Ever since the day her mother died, and the day the sixteen year old somehow broke all the glass in Isobel's apartment, there was an unnatural transformation going on in the teen. It was like an energy she couldn't quite explain, one that felt otherworldly. There were moments where, if her emotions were too out of control, Melanie would feel the energy surge a bit, but she'd have to calm herself down before things got too out of hand. There were also moments where she'd feel extremely restless, like she needed to go and release all that pent up energy. It was difficult, if Melanie were being completely honest.

Isobel noticed the change as well, and was trying to be as supportive as possible. She wanted Melanie to be comfortable in her own skin, to feel as though she weren't so different from anyone else. It was a nice thought, but there were a lot of things that set the teen apart from everyone else. In the end, it all went down to skin color. But now, there were unexplained occurrences going on in Melanie's body. There was no way she'd fit in, or feel comfortable, with something like _that_ happening.

"Change isn't always seen as good in the beginning," Isobel would say. "It can take time for people to grow accustomed to them."

But how long was Melanie supposed to undergo this change before she felt comfortable with it? She didn't like how the energy felt. She didn't like how restless she'd get. And she _really_ didn't like how connected it seemed to be to her emotions. It made Melanie feel like an even bigger outcast.

Melanie seemed to be undergoing plenty of "changes" in her life. First with Joni's death — which the teen later found was due to cancer — the next being from ruining Isobel's apartment, and finally from the possibility of being separated from Oliver. None of those changes seemed like things Melanie could grow accustomed to. She wanted her family back, and no matter what, it felt like everything kept pulling them apart.

Letting out a sigh, the sixteen year old brought her legs up to her chest, her arms wrapping tightly around them. She had to think of a way to stay with Oliver _and_ Isobel. Melanie felt comfortable in the Italian woman's presence. And the teen knew very well why she needed to keep her half-brother with her.

 _There's gotta be something I can do to keep us together,_ Melanie thought. Her chest constricted at the thought.

 **...**

Isobel stood in the kitchen, preparing a small lunch for Melanie and Oliver. The siblings had been staying with her until things smoothed over with their mother's death. It was heartbreaking, seeing the two looking so lost and confused, but Isobel would do her best to make them feel at least _decent_.

Before the siblings came into her life, Isobel had absolutely _no_ experience with children — she had none of her own. But as Melanie and Oliver slowly started working their way into her heart, Isobel started to understand the complexities that came with taking care of them. Children needed different levels of reassurance and comfort. Considering Oliver was only three, he needed more than Melanie, in some ways. Since Melanie was older, she wanted to come across as too mature for comfort. Isobel found that to be interesting.

At the same time, however, the Italian woman knew that, deep down, Melanie was probably in just as much emotional pain as Oliver. They both lost their mother, an important figure in their lives. Yes, Joni was essentially dying, but the siblings hadn't expected it to be so soon. Melanie had hopes of her mother overcoming her illness and getting involved in their lives again. Oliver, however, only knew his mother as emaciated and frail. He couldn't recall a time where she _wasn't_. Either way, it was a saddening sight. Isobel wasn't sure how she, a woman Oliver was unfamiliar with, could bring him comfort or solace.

The one thing Isobel was grateful for were the siblings being allowed to live with her. It was better than Melanie and Oliver being put in child protective custody.

 **...**

In the weeks that had gone by, Bucky had since forgotten about the girl in the pharmacy. Instead, his time was filled with his usual routine. He'd wake up, go to school, spend some time with Steve, go home to spend time with his family, and occasionally go to the Y to box. Bucky was also in the process of starting a job. In the recent months, his family was dealing with the loss of George Barnes, the eighteen year old's father.

There had to be a steady income _some_ how, and Bucky knew that his mother couldn't do it all by herself. It wouldn't be fair to Winifred to try and care for _four_ children while trying to keep food on the table and a roof over everyone's head. Bucky only wanted what was best for everyone.

But, in all, that was Bucky's life at the moment. There wasn't much else he could do. Well, he'd sometimes go out with pretty girls to pass the time — and to keep himself distracted — but that was pretty much it. The life of Bucky Barnes was in no way exciting or fantastic. He was just doing his own thing.

That is, until he heard some people talking.

It wasn't really unusual to hear people talk, and a lot of the time Bucky learned to ignore it. But there was just something about what he was hearing that caught his attention. It involved a woman named Isobel Giovanni, an Italian immigrant living in the poorer parts of Brooklyn. Add in two black kids, and there was something that struck a deep chord in Bucky's chest.

* * *

 **(A/N):**

 **First off, I'd like to apologize for how long it took to post this. I've been so busy lately that I had to push this off momentarily. Secondly, I know this isn't the best chapter, but I hope you guys can at least tolerate it. Lastly, be sure to leave some constructive criticism where you think it's due. If you're finding things in the story that aren't making sense, please tell me about it! Don't assume that I'll know what's bothering you and somehow fix it. I'm not a mind reader. Constructive criticism is what will help this story develop and become better.**

 **Nothing in the MCU belongs to me. All I own are my OCs, my subplot, and the bed I sleep on. If you've got ideas for OCs or subplots, be sure to PM me or leave a review. I'll add them in as soon as possible.**

 **Leave random facts in the review section, if you want. It could be on something new or on something old; it doesn't matter to me.**

 **Blessed be, guys,**

 **Florida Mayers**


	6. Chapter 6

_Somebody hug me!_  
 _Somebody fix me!_  
 _Somebody save me!_

 _Send me a sign, God!_  
 _Give me some hope, here!_  
 _Something to live for!_

-Beautiful; **by the Off-Broadway performance, Heathers: the Musical**

* * *

Melanie and Isobel tried to keep themselves as busy as possible. With planning Joni's funeral, trying to help Oliver grieve and recover healthily, and the whole mess over legal guardianship, things seemed to get more stressful by the second. For Melanie, it was figuring out how she could afford a proper funeral for her mother. Joni was well-known in their neighborhood, but the teen wasn't sure who to invite to such a heartbreaking event. Obviously Pop would be there; he always helped the family out in times of need. But for other guests. . .it was hard to say. Isobel suggested making the funeral short and sweet, but that didn't feel right, either. The teen wanted her mother to be remembered, to be looked at in at least a _warm_ light in the eyes of the community. But it felt like every idea Melanie had was never good enough.

"You're stressing yourself out," Isobel stated, sipping her coffee. "And it is stressing _me_ out."*

"Sorry," Melanie murmured. She sat in Isobel's kitchen, writing down ideas for the funeral, planning out every little moment. That kitchen was where the teen spent most of her time. It was where a lot of her ideas came from.

"Mel, I know this is important to you, but you can't keep doing this."

"Doing _what_?" Melanie looked down at her notepad, her fingertips tapping on the wooden tabletop in frustration.

" _This_." Walking over, Isobel took the notebook away from the teen. She may not know the Salinas kids very well, but she knew that Melanie was a child who had to grow up beyond her years. At only sixteen years old, the young girl had to provide for her family. She had to take care of a sickly mother, watch over her toddler half-brother, get jobs to pay for a mediocre apartment, all the while hoping to finish school. And with Joni's death, that only seemed to add more pressure onto Melanie. She had to plan out a funeral, think of guests to invite, find a new place to live, all the while looking out for Oliver's best interests. No child should be acting like that.

"Isobel, what the hell!" Melanie snapped. Jumping up from her seat, the teen attempted to reach over and grab her notebook, but Isobel kept it from her reach. "I _need_ that! Why're you doing this?"

"What _you_ need is a break," Isobel exclaimed. "Your mother _died_ , Melanie. Don't you understand that?"

"Are you serious right now?" The sixteen year old couldn't _believe_ what she was hearing. "You don't think I know what's going on? I get it, okay? My mom's dead. That's why I'm planning her funeral. That's why I'm trying to make sure Oliver's doing fine. It's _my_ responsibility."

"No. You're only a child, can't you see that? You shouldn't have to burden yourself with adult responsibilities."

Snorting, Melanie crossed her arms over her chest, avoiding Isobel's gaze. She didn't want to hear another word out of the woman's mouth. As far as Melanie was concerned, her new companion was just interfering. No one _ever_ had a problem with the teen taking on adult responsibilities before. Why did it matter so much now?

"Don't you think it's time you do things _you_ want to do?" Isobel asked. She took in the defiance Melanie gave off. She took in the hostility and the irritation. Isobel was well aware the importance of the teen's notebook, but there _had_ to be a moment when Melanie just _stopped_. "You've spent so much of your life catering to everyone else, what do _you_ want, Mel?"

"What kind of question is that?" Melanie muttered.

"It's a realistic question." The older woman's brows furrowed. "Don't you have a plan for yourself?"

Melanie simply shrugged. She had _dreams_ of what she wanted to be, but she never had the opportunity to act out on them.

"Just think about that, okay?" Isobel sighed. "I'm keeping the notebook until further notice. I want you to take a moment to just think about everything."

 **...**

There were a lot of unhealthy coping mechanisms that Melanie had. Isobel could see that. She knew the teen had been so accustomed to being _so_ responsible, that she didn't know — or couldn't remember — how to act and behave like a proper child. Being the "adult" in her old home had been the one constant in Melanie's life. It was sad, really.

Letting out a sigh, Isobel sat down at the kitchen table. Melanie had stormed out after their discussion, her face red with anger. The past couple weeks had been hard, and the older woman knew it would only get harder. Joni's funeral still had to be organized, that much was true, but there had to be a time in Melanie's life where she properly _grieved_ for her mother. There had to be a moment where she _felt_. Looking down at the notebook, Isobel frowned.

 _All that fuss over this little thing,_ the older woman thought. The notebook itself was small, looking more like a diary than anything. But the outside was ordinary; no decorations or anything to indicate it belonged to a teenage girl. _Mel's got to stop acting like she's so grown up,_ Isobel thought. _It's not healthy for her or Oliver._

Letting out a harsh chuckle, Isobel leaned back in her seat and closed her eyes for a moment. She wanted to think, to really ponder over everything that happened recently. The weeks since Joni died, since Melanie and Oliver started living with Isobel, had been strange. Children were things the Italian woman never even _considered_ having in her life, whether they were biological or not. But then came an emotional teenage girl, panicking over her deceased mother and her toddler brother. And this teenage girl, in all her grief and worry and _anxiety_ , manages to destroy an apartment without lifting a finger. It was unbelievable. Isobel still wonders if she imagined the whole thing. How could _any_ one properly explain that?

 _There has to be something Melanie isn't telling me,_ Isobel thought. She furrowed her brows at that thought. _Did_ Melanie know she could do something like that? She looked rather surprised at what happened, even more spooked than Isobel felt. _Maybe she's never done that before. Maybe. . .Maybe. . ._

Maybe _what_? What kind of explanation could be said for what Melanie did? Isobel's apartment had been destroyed, and there wasn't a single indication that it was a dream or some kind of elaborate prank. After that little moment, it was never talked about again. Melanie seemed to block that day — that moment — off, not wanting to recall it under any circumstances. For Isobel, she couldn't seem to get it out of her head. The memory dangled in the back of her mind, causing her a whole array of emotions.

Looking down at the notebook, Isobel frowned. She wanted what was best for the siblings, and she knew what she said to Melanie would thoroughly piss the teen off. . .but what was Isobel _supposed_ to do? Let the teen run herself into the ground?

 _She's been using this to plan her mother's funeral, right?_ Isobel thought. _I may as well see what she's been writing in it._

It was worth a try, right?

 **...**

Names. A _lot_ of names.* Some of them were crossed out, some of them had question marks by them. A lot of them — cross that, _most_ of them — were people Isobel didn't recognize. Were they family members? Close family friends? Acquaintances? Isobel couldn't say for sure. All she really knew were a lot of the people listed in the notebook seemed to be crossed out. So that could probably mean the Salinas family didn't really have a lot of people they were close to.

Turning the page, Isobel's heart ached at what she saw next. A list of what could be afforded for Joni's funeral. From what was written in the notebook, Melanie worked two jobs that didn't pay her well. A lot of her finances went to the apartment, Oliver, Joni, and whatever was left was used for food, clothes, etc. Isobel's mind couldn't seem to process that one girl was responsible for so many things. Sure, the sixteen year old was working herself to the bone in order to afford a proper funeral, but the older woman wouldn't have guessed _that_ much.

 _That could explain why she's been out late so often,_ Isobel thought solemnly. _She's trying to save as much money as possible for Joni._

Turning the page _again_ , Isobel felt tears prickle the backs of her eyes. It looked like she was going into more personal territory. A part of the notebook that Melanie seemed to put her heart and soul into. Written on the page were worries about whether she'd graduate high school on time; worries about how Oliver would grow to handle Joni's funeral. From what Isobel could see, Melanie was very worried over her half-brother's emotional state. He seemed to have shut down after the discovery of Joni's body. He wasn't as comfortable with other people as he used to be — or, he just wasn't as comfortable with his sister around.

Melanie would write about how it seemed her relationship with her brother felt strained, and she couldn't seem to figure out a way to mend it. Not even the offer of sweets seemed to wave Oliver's emotions. The teen felt helpless, hopeless. Nothing seemed to be working out the way she wanted.

Isobel's heart clenched at that. The idea of Melanie feeling absolutely helpless was awful.* Running a hand over her face, Isobel closed the notebook. She couldn't bear to see what else was written in it. She couldn't bear to think about what other pains the teen was currently experiencing.

 **...**

 _I can't believe she'd do something like that._ Melanie was pacing around in the room Isobel gave her. The teen's hands were crossed, a scowl on her face. _Who does Isobel think she is? It's my mom who died! I should be planning a funeral for her! Not thinking about what it means to be a teenager._

Letting out a frustrated growl, Melanie threw herself on the bed. She _hated_ feeling the way she did. She hated the frustration, the feeling of being _useless_.

"My job is to take care of my family," Melanie murmured. "I have to give Oliver a good life, and I was supposed to. . ."

 _. . .take care of mom._

Closing her eyes for a moment, the teen took a deep breath and let it out. She had to calm herself down. The last time she let herself lose control, Isobel's apartment paid the price for it. Wincing slightly, Melanie pushed that thought from her mind. She didn't want to remember that. God, she wanted to remember _any_ thing but that.

Opening her eyes, Melanie was met with the sight of the ceiling. The paint was a bit cracked, not to mention there were spiderwebs in the corners. Isobel's apartment looked fairly similar to how everyone else's looked. Old, somewhat dilapidated. The building was in the bad side of Brooklyn, where the "lowest of the lower class" lived. In other words, minorities in all shapes and sizes. While some found it baffling that someone like Isobel would live in such conditions, it was her status as an immigrant that gave her that life. While Italians seemed to hold a nice spot in American society, Melanie was still baffled on how Isobel was treated differently.

Letting out a huff, the teen turned onto her side, curling her body up and tucking her arms under her head.

 _All my life, I've been taking care of other people,_ Melanie thought. _Ma, Oliver. . .Never did I consider taking care of myself._

Furrowing her brows, the teen felt a sensation bubble in the pit of her stomach. She couldn't identify what it was or what it represented, but it made her both uncomfortable and curious.

 _I've had to work two jobs to support us. I struggled in school because I was so focused on other things. When was I going to start taking care of myself?_

There was still Oliver. He needed someone in his life. Someone who was _family_. His father wasn't in the picture, so that was out of the question. That meant Melanie was the only immediate family he had. So that meant neither would be separated, no matter what. The legal system could throw whatever they wanted at the siblings, they grew up together and they were going to _stay_ together. That was why Melanie was so against living with her father's family. They wouldn't take in Oliver; he wasn't related to any of them. Hell, they barely acknowledged _Melanie's_ existence until Joni died.

Closing her eyes again, Melanie let out a soft breath. She was working herself up. She didn't know what to think. Isobel still had to be interviewed in order to obtain legal guardianship. It would be a challenge, a white woman wanting to take in two black children. Melanie understood that; Oliver didn't. Even though the Salinas siblings were living in New York, there was still a lot of segregation. Plenty of white folks would treat Melanie badly because of her appearance. Oliver would certainly get his fair share, too.

 _Why does this have to be the world we live in?_

 **...**

Bucky listened closely to what he heard. The stories seemed to be true. Isobela Giovanni had taken in two children, both black, who seemingly lived in the same apartment building as her. It made him wonder if one of those kids was the girl he'd helped all that time ago. The one at the pharmacy. She had a fierceness to her, one that Bucky found admirable. But at the same time, he couldn't know for sure if either of those kids could be the girl he'd helped.

But he had to wonder why his body was reacting the way it was. Was he reacting the same way everyone else seemed to be? Or was it because he was curious? Or, maybe, it was an entirely different emotion altogether. He didn't entirely know. But Bucky knew that he'd find out eventually. Certain people in Brooklyn had a habit of talking, so world would spread fast.

* * *

 **(A/N):**

 **First off, sorry for the wait on this chapter. I know it's probably not the best, but I hope you guys enjoy it regardless. Secondly, sorry for the mini hiatus. I let time get the best of me, to be honest. I've had so many other things going on I forgot about this story. Anywho, be sure to leave constructive criticism where you think it's necessary.**

 **Do I own anything in the MCU? No. No I don't. All I own are my OCs, my subplots, and the chargers in my room. If you've got ideas for an OC or a subplot, be sure to PM me or leave a review. I'll add them in as soon as possible.**

 **Again, leave constructive criticism where you think it's due. I'll be more than happy to read what you guys have to say!**

 **Leave a random fact or story in the reviews, if you want. It's up to you guys.**

 **Blessed be, guys,**

 **Florida Mayers**


End file.
